


Stories

by rivalshipping



Series: Weary [3]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Alcohol, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Gen or Pre-Slash, Past Child Abuse, Storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-21
Updated: 2014-06-21
Packaged: 2018-02-05 13:52:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1820689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivalshipping/pseuds/rivalshipping
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pickles helps Toki calm down and accidentally gets him worked up again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stories

**Author's Note:**

> mostly edited but please tell me if i missed anything because i will be going through and reediting later
> 
> next in line in this series so these first three are chronological
> 
> from a tumblr prompt
> 
> thank you for reading

“New York, New York!” Pickles shouted, taking a running leap at Toki’s bed and rolling to a stop near the wall.

Toki glanced over at him from his desk, where he was painstakingly assembling a model airplane. Charles had bought him a professional kit as a welcoming present, going by some clue on Toki that he would like it that he couldn’t even identify himself, and true to Charles’ predictions, he could barely put it down. Something about thinking so hard on one tiny thing kept him from worrying about everything else in his life for a while. “Mm-hm,” he murmured to Pickles, peering closer to the magnifying glass to line up a rotor.

Pickles sidled up to Toki’s back. “You’ve gat hours ta do that, dood,” he whined and rested his chin on Toki’s shoulder, careful not to jostle him. “Let’s go out!”

The rhythm guitarist blinked, carefully putting down the wing and his tweezers. “With me?” he asked incredulously. Skwisgaar or Murderface or Nathan could get a thousand times more shitfaced than he could because they were used to it--why would Pickles pick the lightweight of the band to go out with?

“Yeah, wit’ you!” Pickles spun Toki around in his chair, holding him by the arms. “We haven’t hung out or anythin’ yet! It’s been practice practice practice wit’ you!”

Toki broke Pickles’ stare, glancing at the floor instead. “Hows will I’s stay if I’s not good?” he asked.

Pickles sighed and shook him a bit. “How about I tell ya over a drink? There’s a bar down the street!”

Now Toki smiled and kicked his feet. “I’s seven-teens, Pickle.”

“An’ I’m twenty five.”

“I can’ts _drinks_ in America.”

Pickles thought for a moment, then groaned, letting go of Toki to do a dramatic spin and flop back onto the bed. “God damn you America!” he yelled at the ceiling, shaking his fist. Toki laughed and stood up to lean over him with his arms crossed. Pickles grinned and said, “Come drink wit’ me in my room, then.” When Toki didn’t reply, Pickles sat up a bit, one hand up with his palm up. “I’m nat tryna pressure ya. If you don’t wanna you don’t hafta.”

Toki shrugged. “I doesn’t have anything to does tonights,” he said, and then grabbed Pickles’ wrist to drag him up. Pickles acted deadweight, enjoying Toki’s concentration on pulling him to standing, but his smirk turned into surprise when Toki bodily lifted him with arms around his hips.

“Shit, Toki, put me down!” he insisted breathlessly, pushing hard against Toki’s shoulders while the boy laughed. He was dropped on his feet outside Toki’s door, where he leaned against the wall and panted like he couldn’t get enough air. “Warn a guy before doin’ that!”

Shy again, Toki shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Okays.” Pickles rolled his eyes and beckoned him with a lazy gesture, walking down the hall to his room. It was the only one with two windows--he got it by waving seniority and band experience in all their faces, but they probably would have let him have it anyway. Toki’s room didn’t have any windows because he was the youngest, but he spent so much of his free time outside or in the living room that he didn’t really mind.

“You drank before?” Pickles asked, rummaging under his bed for a full bottle of something.

Toki relaxed in the armchair Pickles managed to finagle into his room. “A small… little. A…” he didn’t know what the word was, but he could almost taste the bitterness. “ _Vin_?”

Pickles took a plastic cup off the top of a stack on his dresser and poured a little of the clear bottle into it, then gave Toki the cup. “Ask Skwisgaar to translate tomorrow. Don’t drink that. I’ll be right back.” He left the room and Toki frowned at the cup. It looked like water but it smelled a little strong. He could hear Pickles open and close the refrigerator, and then he was back, opening a cranberry juice bottle and filling the rest of Toki’s cup.

“Crans-berries?” He sniffed at it again, and it only smelled marginally better.

“Yeah. You’ll like it. An’ I’m tryna _drink_ , nat get a lil’ tipsy from a couple beers.” Pickles poured himself the same drink with significantly more clear alcohol and significantly less cranberry juice. “Tell me how ya like it.”

Toki took a tentative sip. It just tasted like slightly spoiled, sugary juice. He drank deeper and Pickles grinned lopsidedly at him. “Good,” Toki said, wiping his mouth.

Pickles sat on his bed and dropped a book into his lap, opening it with an odd _crinkle_ sound from the pages. “I actually wanted ya here fer somethin’.” Toki, curious, sat next to Pickles and looked at his book as well. “I know you’re nervous about your first gig….”

It was a photobook. The first few pictures were of people Toki didn’t recognize, and he pointed to them, making a curious sound.

“Tony. He’s the first person I met when I got to LA.” Pickles fussed with his piercings, something Toki noticed was a nervous habit. “He wasn’t a total fuckin’ douchebag like everyone else there. An’ he already had his band started… he just needed a singer, y’know?”

Toki didn’t know, really, but he nodded anyway, taking another drink. Pickles talked about Bullets and Candynose for a while, but he always ended up back at Tony, a wistful look on his face. A few more page turns and there were more pictures with him actually in them. “I likes yous hair, Pickle,” Toki said, quite honestly.

Pickles’ expression was disbelieving when he turned to look at Toki, refilling both their cups. “Thanks, I guess. I wore a shitton of makeup back then, and tight pants and fuckin’ crop tops.” He laughed as he described the situations behind each picture. Most of them were from the four band members hanging out, some of Pickles getting high on different drugs for the first time (“The camera’s so fuckin’ shaky ‘cause I had _way_ too much coke”) and some of them driving to different cities, eating at cheap restaurants and wandering through the nightlife.

Toki, quite drunk after an hour of storytelling and four more cups of vodka and cranberry juice--something that was becoming more delicious every second--giggled at another picture of Pickles, wild hair up in a bun and a white tank top with “SLUT” printed across it in hot pink lettering. “I likes this outfits!” he said through his laughter, his cheek pressed against Pickles’ shoulder.

“I think I still gat that shirt somewhere,” Pickles slurred, handing Toki his cup so he could slide off the bed. He staggered to his closet, searching through the black shirts and sweaters for a hint of bright white. When he found it he held it up, grinning. “Wear it, dood. If it fits you can keep it.”

The guitarist snorted and set their empty cups aside, standing and pulling his shirt off. When he got stuck in the head hole Pickles came forward to help him wrest it off, but halfway through Pickles’ hands stilled and he dropped the second shirt.

Toki’s head finally came out the other side. “Pickle?” he asked, all smiles and panting breath. Pickles’ expression was shocked, his face white, and he looked like he couldn’t find words. “... Pickle?”

“What… the _fuck_!?” Toki jumped at Pickles’ sudden exclamation, taking a step away from him. He felt very small all of a sudden. “What the fuck is that all over your back!?” Pickles grabbed his arm to turn him and he jerked away, stumbling over himself and landing on his ass. Being drunk was a detriment to his balance as well as his emotional capability, because he also burst into tears, leaning forward with both hands around the back of his neck to protect it from possible blows.

Silence, and then the hand was back, much softer this time. It stroked his arm and his shoulder and down his back, then repeated until his drunken dizziness cleared and he could look up.

Pickles was still pale, staring at the milky scars under his fingers. “I would never, _never_ hurt you, Toki,” he breathed, eyes flicking between Toki’s face and his scars. Toki didn’t think he’d ever seen the man so sober. “But if I find out who did….”

Toki wiped at his tears. “M-my parents,” he said softly, expecting Pickles’ harsh exhale. “I’s a bad kids, so….”

The drummer sat across from him instead of kneeling, his jaw tight from his teeth grinding together and his brows set in a deep frown. “No, Toki, you were nat a bad kid, and I don’t fuckin’ know what you _passibly_ could have done to make those fuckin’ assholes think that, but I want you to forget it.” He touched Toki’s face with one gentle hand, then with two, lifting it to face him. “You’re good. Okay?”

Toki didn’t really believe Pickles just yet, but he nodded anyway, biting at his lower lip. “Thanks you Pickle,” he said politely.

Pickles sighed, standing up and helping Toki to stand as well. “I was tryin’ ta get you drunk and relaxed and _nat_ nervous an’ I made it worse,” Pickles said under his breath. “I shoulda kept my fuckin’ mouth shut, huh?”

“No, Pickle. I understands. Yous helpings a lot.” Toki leaned down to pick up the shirt and pulled it on; it fit almost perfectly. He chuckled and tugged at the hem. “You keeps it.” He took it off again, got his normal shirt from the bed where he left it, and put that on instead. When he turned back to Pickles he was standing still, one hand over his eyes. “Should I stays?”

The offer encouraged Pickles to smile. “Sure,” he said cockily. “I wanna see your first hangover personally.” Toki pushed him playfully, knowing he wouldn’t have to ask Pickles to keep his secret a secret. He would still have his friend and he now also had a confidant.


End file.
